Silver

You stood by the mirror in the hallway, a last touch of lipstick, a slight tilt of your head, and your dress buttoned up.

You and your husband had a fight over something trivial: a forgotten mug, words spoken in fatigue. You decided to make him jealous, not out of malice, but so he would remember that you were important.

Your friends are waiting at the club, the music and lights seem like a promise of oblivion, but another feeling smolders in your chest—a pang of resentment. Your fingers tremble slightly when he enters the apartment and sees your outfit, a short, revealing dress. You remain silent and apply a second coat of lipstick. Ignoring is the best weapon. His voice tries to be both soft and prickly at the same time:

-Are you going to cheat on me, princess?

You look away:

• I didn't have that in my plans yet. Are you kidding me?

"Tell me when you plan to do this. So I can kill any of your candidates, tie you to the bed, and remind you once again who your only man and official husband is."